


Castle Rock

by sugarteabear



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: (Jelly and Fish are definitely not based off of my two late rats), (and I definitely didn't have the same project last year), AND SWEET, Alternate Universe - School, F/F, Irene is really understanding, called Jelly and Fish, molly has social anxiety, she has two pet rats, they're doing an English project on 'Lord of the Flies'
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-09-18 09:58:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9379457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarteabear/pseuds/sugarteabear
Summary: If being paired with Irene Adler is the end of her life, Molly doesn't really know how she's going to handle it... Yet as the week goes on, she finds that her life may just be beginning.





	1. Monday Morning

**Author's Note:**

> Any mistakes are mine, so I apologise in advance! :-)

Irene Adler was a bitch.

At least, that's what Molly had been told.

...Well, it's not what she'd been _told_ , per say, but she'd definitely heard people murmur the words.

(Molly didn't really have friends to gossip with; fortunately, though, her classmates were naive enough to assume that because she was quiet, she didn't eavesdrop)

(It just so happens that Molly, however unsuspecting, was quite the nosy person)

And so it was only fair that she sat there, in her English lesson, experiencing what surely was a mini-heart-attack. She hoped - _prayed_ , for Christ's sake - that she'd heard her teacher wrong; but the giggling of her classmates and the wicked grin Jim sent her way could leave no room for second guessing. Her stomach lurched. She focused her attention on her clasping hands, willing herself to breathe. A presentation was one thing- Molly could just about stomach a presentation - but being paired up with the one and only Irene Adler was another. 

_I'm going to be sick. I'm going to be-_

"Quickly everyone, to your partner," Mrs Hudson instructed from the front of the class, clapping her hands for emphasis. Usually, Molly liked the older woman, for she was kind and understanding when no one else was; but today was a different story. Today, Molly just about detested her. "Remember, you'll be presenting these next Monday! And you will _not_ be getting lesson time to do this in, understood?"

_I can't do this, I can't, I can't..._

Rooted to her spot, body tense and rigid, Molly barely flinched as Irene took a seat in front of her. 

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

Looking up nervously, she was greeted by the icy gaze of a girl who presented herself like a woman. For someone outside of school, it'd be impossible to tell they were the same age. Whilst Irene arranged her hair in an elegant style each day, Molly kept with her same, loose ponytail; whilst Irene paraded around confidently in clothes showing off her slim figure, Molly scuttled about in oversized jumpers and jeans. Irene was gorgeous - Molly couldn't deny her that, all sharp cheekbones, blue eyes, and red lipstick on the softest lips- and Molly was, well, Molly.

_Gosh, her lips._

Molly flushed upon realising she'd missed Irene's question, and even more when she realised the reason _for_ missing it. She ducked her head in silent apology, but Irene didn't speak again. Not until their eyes met, which was as soon as Molly had plucked up the courage to do so.

"Would it be at all possible for us to work on this project at your house?"

Molly hoped the surprise didn't feature on her face.

"Only if that's okay with you, of course,"

She never had been any good at controlling her emotions. 

It wasn't the fact that Irene spoke softly which surprised her - although, granted, she hadn't been expecting it - but the fact that she was planning to do the work _with_ Molly... When does that ever happen? Normally if she has to do work with someone, she's the one left to complete it on her own. So why would Irene, of all people, be willing to partake? She didn't know, but it made her more nervous; now she'd actually have to spend time with the other girl. Alone.

"Molly?"

"U-uh, no. Wait, no, I-I mean yes. Yes? That'll be- fine. Fine, definitely," 

_Oh Christ._

Irene arched an eyebrow as Molly fumbled around with her words, but didn't comment further.. Something which Molly was definitely thankful for, though her face burned with her panic and embarrassment regardless. Her eyes quickly drifted to the ground, but Irene remained silent. Again. Quite frankly, it was nerve-wracking - Molly knew there was something she wanted to say, but couldn't understand why she wasn't voicing that something. It wasn't until the silence became unbearably uncomfortable for Molly (which, really, didn't take that long at all) that she chose to look up, catching Irene's eyes, somehow knowing it would make a difference.

"Could I have your address?"


	2. Monday Evening - Part 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any mistakes are my own.
> 
> The tenses were really stressing me out, so I apologise if they're messy!

Molly trudged through the front door of her house. Not, mind you, that she really got any further her than the front door - for as soon as it had closed, she'd rested her back against it, promptly sliding to the floor. 

She clutched her knees and chin to her chest, scrunching her eyes shut. 

It wasn't so much that she was _scared_ of Irene Adler, but... she was. Kind of. She was terrified of the _idea_ of her; of spending time with her; of making conversation with her; of looking at her; of being with her. Even despite the rumours it'd be the same... because Molly Hooper, for all that it was worth, was not shy. Not in the way everybody at school thought she was. All of the loneliness - the fear - it wasn't because she was quiet; but, rather, because of her social anxiety, and if-

A hand on her knee breaks the trance, and she's suddenly aware of somebody crouched in front of her.  
Her...mother? Of course it was, who else could it have been? Irene Adler had already mentioned she'd need to pop home quickly. Evidently that fact does little to prevent her brain from creating the impossible scenario, forcing her heart to skip a beat.

"How're you doing, my little chicken?"

The question is laced with hidden implication - of course it is, because Molly had texted her in a frantic mess about the Irene situation - and the old nickname makes her heart ache... Molly wants to answer the question - she really, _really_ does - yet, at the same time, she knows the only thing that'll escape her lips is a sob. 

_What's the point in crying?_

She manages a shake of the head instead, and hears rather than sees the small, sad smile in her mother's next words:

"I love you, you know? And I'm going to be right here-" There's a soft kiss, planted softly upon Molly's head, "-always. You won't be alone, not ever, okay?"

It doesn't require a response, not really, so Molly hums in acknowledgment; and she knows her mother understands what she's trying to express through the gentle squeeze of her knee.

"Come on, little chicken, up you get - go see Jelly and Fish, hm?"

_Jelly... Fish..._

Slowly, along with the assistance of her mother, Molly gets to her feet; there's more enthusiasm in her features and a sudden spark of life in her eyes. That's the power of love, Molly supposes. 

_Jelly and Fish..._

How else could two words lift the heavy weight in her chest? The feeling almost makes Molly giggle - _almost_. Because no sooner has she took a step is she interrupted by sudden, sharp knocking. She glances towards her mother, frozen, like a deer caught in headlights - the only people who visit her house ring the doorbell, and the only people who ring the doorbell are her mother's friends. Molly doesn't usually have anybody _to_ knock the door.

Her mother doesn't pity her though, and she never has done. She offers, simply, a reassuring smile, "Are you ready?"

Molly knows she's being given a chance - more time to prepare herself with - and yet, however appealing the option may seem, was there really much point in it? Delaying the inevitable... It was just putting herself through more turmoil, wasn't it? So she swallows hard instead, letting the panic rest momentarily in the pit of her stomach, and nods in answer.

Her mother's not stupid. She knows her daughter well enough to be sure that 'ready' is far from what she is. But she also knows that hesitating will do nothing to settle her daughter's nerves. Ruffling Molly's hair in comfort, she opens the door. 

ー

_Different._

It's the first thing she notices once her mother welcomes the other girl in. That and the fact she's carrying a laptop under one arm and a battered copy of Lord of the Flies in the hand of the other. But, she is. Different, somehow. Molly can't quite place her finger on it, because everything is, noticeably, the same: Irene's wearing the same clothes, shoes, makeup, hairstyle... 

_So what's different?_

She bites her lip subconsciously; hard enough to snap her from her drifting thoughts, and hard enough to make her jump in surprise. There's a silence in the room, a trace of a conversation she probably interrupted. She doesn't need to look up to know that Irene's gazing at her with curiosity, so she keeps her eyes trained on the floor. Her mother speaks first.

"Molly, chicken, show Irene to your room and I'll bring up some tea and biscuits, okay? Irene - do you like digestives, we have-"

Molly tunes out the rest of her mother's words - not on purpose, _never_ on purpose, but only because the panic has sprouted... From where it lay in her stomach, it's blossomed in her chest, her mind. Now all she can think, all she can do, is remember to breathe.

_Breathe._

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

She sets off to her room, if only because she was told to, vaguely aware of Irene following behind her. 

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure whether this is too short or not??
> 
> Anyway, sorry for the long wait! Procrastination + lack of motivation/energy + lack of confidence + writer's block do not make for a pretty sight.
> 
> Part 2 will be finished shortly... I hope.


	3. Monday Evening - Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any mistakes are mine, and I apologise for any of 'em in advance!

"What's our chapter again? Ten?"

The question startles Molly, though perhaps it shouldn't. In her defense, it's not that it _startles_ her, as such - it's just a reaction of guilt. She'd been dawdling by her bookshelf, tracing her fingers delicately along the spines of books, acting as if she was searching for their assigned novel.

(She knew exactly where it was. 6th book from the left, sandwiched between "Running Girl" and "Into the Wild". It was one of her favourites.)

She nods, grabs the book, and turns. Slowly.

_Christ._

Irene, sometime among Molly's escape to the bookshelf, had begun to set up her laptop on the floor. She'd sat cross-legged, back against Molly's bed, the laptop placed away from her at such an angle that made it clear: she was expecting Molly to sit next to her. 

_Next to her._

__

__

_Oh Christ._

Molly managed _not_ to squeak in dismay. But barely. She also realised - after watching Irene flick through pages, tongue poking out in concentration - that her nod probably went unnoticed. 

_Breathe. Breathe. Breathe._

"C-chapter 10," Molly spoke in affirmation, cautiously walking - _tiptoeing_ , really - towards the other girl. 

Irene patted the space next to her, but didn't look up.

It made Molly's task of crouching to sit down easier, smoother. 

(She didn't have to worry about being watched, or scrutinised.)

Still. As soon as her back hit the bed - as soon as her butt hit the floor - she tensed. Froze.

 _Breathe_.

The flicking of pages halted from beside her, and Irene hummed in success - Molly assumed she'd found Chapter 10.

(She wouldn't know, wouldn't look. She kept her eyes trained on something. Something closer to the door.)

"Do you like the chapter?"

Yes.

The word died in Molly's throat.

_No._

__

__

No, no, no.

Not again. Not now. 

_Please not now._

She had to speak. She had to.

She tried again. No luck. Was that - was that a _whimper?_

Why was this happening _now?_ Why - why in front of _her?_

In front of _Irene Adler_... Who wasn't exactly known for being the most understanding; she was, after all, the one people went to if they wanted to know the latest gossip. She kept tabs on those kind of things... and this? This _was_ one of those kind of things.

Molly swallowed thickly, her chest heavy, heaving.

She could envision it now: walking to school tomorrow with everybody pointing at her. _Laughing_ at her.

(Not that it didn't _already_ happen, but that was different )

And now - Irene shifts, suddenly crouched directly opposite her.

_Shoot._

__

__

_No, no_ -

But Irene isn't - She's not - laughing? There's no lingering smirk, no mirth in her eyes.

 _Is that?_

There's understanding. A softness of sorts.

It feels _weird_ , and somewhat frightening.

(Molly's not used to anybody other than her mother, her Jelly and her Fish seeing her like this)

Yet, sat with her, whispering her name so delicately, is the one person she's supposed to fear most.

(The one person she's heard is bad news)

And she's.. humming to her? Is that - a lullaby?

After tearing them away from the corner of the room, Molly's eyes find Irene's. Maybe it's not a surprise to catch a question in her peer - to catch the uncertainty, mixed with the desire, determination, to help - but it is, regardless. 

(And, really, shouldn't Molly know better than to judge someone without knowing them first?)

(How can she constantly be surprised with Irene's character if she doesn't actually _know_ Irene's character?)

(...Isn't it rather hypocritical of herself?)

Not that that really matters now. She's tired, and she hurts. So she nods, accepting whatever help Irene wants to give;

It comes in the form of careful hands, rubbing circles on both of Molly's arms. If her heart wasn't already thundering, it certainly would be now.

Because, _Christ_ , Irene's _touching_ her; and it's the incredible care behind the action, the movements, the touch, that makes Molly want to sob.

(How long has it been since someone other than her family treated her like a real person with real feelings?)

(How long has it been since she was taken seriously?)

She's humming again - Irene, that is. Not Molly. Molly's not entirely sure what she, herself, is doing; she's just desperately trying to breathe. And it _is_ a lullaby, she decides, for some reason. The words are lost on Molly, though she grasps desperately at them, determined to register them. 

_Eureka._

"Breathe, Molly, breathe," One of Irene's hands trail downwards, cautiously taking hold of Molly's - and _oh moly_ , it's shaking, _she's_ shaking; how did she not notice that? - before placing it on her chest, "With me, Molly Hooper, okay? Breathe with me,"

It's takes a while to distinguish between the trembling of her hand and every beat of Irene's heart - each rise and fall of her functioning lungs - but she does. She can. And she _breathes_.

Although, granted, it's a lot messier than that - it starts with a large, struggled gulp rather than an actual breath, which results in spluttering. The constriction of the throat. But she does it, eventually. Her breathing regulates. She functions again.

Irene lets go then, allowing her arms to fall away from Molly, but she remains crouched in front of her - and it's a lot less suffocating than it once was - until Molly... Well, she doesn't relax, exactly. That'd be a stretch. But, she does forget. Forgets what just happened, forgets who she's with, forgets how she's supposed to act. She shifts her gaze, conspicuously, and Irene's gaze follows stat. 

"Who... Who are they?"

(The question is whispered, so delicately, and Molly doesn't know why she feared it in the first place)

(She doesn't know why she bothered trying to hide them either - a big fucking cage against a wall in her room isn't exactly something people ignore) 

"Rats," Molly nods, and it comes easily, rushed in one sentence, one breath, " _My_ rats, Jelly and Fish," 

And it's _freeing_. 

Utterly and completely -

_Christ, never mind._

It doesn't feel so great in the pause that comes afterwards; it's slightly longer than a pause, but Molly doesn't want to think about it...  
It's not even a pause of awkward silence - it's just that she can feel Irene's mind working away. Calculating. _That's_ not freeing. At all. It's extremely, extremely nerve-wracking.

Molly groans inwardly, realising Irene's doing that thing again; that thing where she doesn't say anything, even though Molly can practically hear the words dancing at the tip of her tongue.

What's more is that Molly knows what she wants, and she's not particularly sure if she wants that for herself yet.

She does, nonetheless.

She looks her dead in the eyes.

She looks her dead in the eyes and clenches her jaw, her fists, preparing herself for the mockery - the mockery of either her rats or her panic attack. She's not sure which would be worse.

(She's not ashamed of either one, mind you, but she is terrified about the consequences, and the power that Irene has over her)

But Irene just smiles, and Molly thinks she's finally figured out what's so different about her. She's not the same Irene as the one she knows from school. Not here, not really. Here, she seems relaxed - but at school, she appears cold, rigid. As if she's constantly fighting to prove - and defend - herself, and her worth.

Molly nearly asks about it, but Irene beats her to it by asking whether Jelly and Fish are allowed out.

That, too, takes Molly by surprise - and this time it's not because it's Irene's mouth the words are coming from, but because the most anticipated reaction to even the mention of rats is utter disgust.

She stares skeptically at her classmate, and she's met by nothing but genuineness.

Irene shrugs, almost playfully, "It's just... I'd love to meet them,"

So _maybe_ Molly jumps to her feet, tripping on the carpet in the process, but that's okay. She loves her rats with all that she has: they make her feel safe and loved; they make her feel like she's worth something more than what they tell her at school. And, for a reason she can't quite place her finger on, she wants nothing more but to share that with Irene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Molly definitely has pet rats, fight me.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm hopefully going to stick with this, because I really like the idea... I'm just an awful procrastinator.
> 
> Comments are much appreciated, and you can scream at me on my tumblr (@sugarteabear) to motivate me.


End file.
